


Aragorn's Dojo: A Snippet 'Verse

by one_flying_ace



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 12:50:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1186392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_flying_ace/pseuds/one_flying_ace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>On a Saturday, Legolas stays behind at the dojo to help clear up ready for the next week’s classes. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aragorn's Dojo: A Snippet 'Verse

**Author's Note:**

> Written long ago for a friend, and never finished. Posting for neatness.

On a Saturday, Legolas stays behind at the dojo to help clear up ready for the next week’s classes. It never involves much; Aragorn keeps things neat, but after six days of weapons being used by beginners and worse, the racks they’re kept on usually need a good tidy up, and the floors always need a good sweep. 

The final class on Saturdays is always fencing, something Aragorn started more as a hobby for himself than anything else, but which attracted considerable attention before settling down to a group of nine regulars, including Legolas himself. He’s endlessly curious about where Aragorn learnt to fence (well, to be fair, it’s more like actual swordplay), but it’s only one question on a long list that he’s never asked. 

Like where he got the delicate necklace he wears tucked inside his shirts, who his family is, where he grew up, when he learnt French, all sorts of things. It isn’t as if they don’t talk about personal things, but Legolas knows in his heart that if he starts asking questions like those, he won’t want to ever stop.

Saturday afternoons are the hardest time to keep quiet. The fencing group hangs around for half an hour or so once Aragorn calls the class to an end, catching their breath and chatting about their weeks. Eowyn normally leaves first, her brother picking her up on his way home from the film studios where he works as a stuntman. Aragorn kicks Merry and Pippin out as nicely and quickly as he can manage to, ever since they knocked over a stand of swords and damaged the floor.

Haldir makes his quiet goodbyes fairly soon; he’s not much for conversation, but Legolas enjoys talking to him if he’s in the right mood, and he always spends a few minutes with Aragorn. The last to leave, apart from Legolas himself are the brothers Boromir and Faramir. They take the classes more seriously than most of the rest, and there’s talk of them moving to a proper trainer; Aragorn knows some people, apparently, and they discuss it with increasing seriousness each Saturday.

That they’re all from such different backgrounds but get on so well sometimes makes Legolas look at Aragorn and almost let the questions spill off his tongue, perhaps in between one of Faramir’s stories about his time as a ranger in Canada or his summer job as a camp leader for kids. The right moment never seems to make itself know, though. Conversations move on too quickly, or the sun catches the pendant resting on Aragorn's skin and Legolas turns away to busy himself elsewhere.

Occasionally a professor from the local university comes to watch them, and those are the days when Legolas finds it all too easy to hold his tongue. Gandalf has a way of looking at someone as if he can see into their very soul, as though one look tells him every secret they keep far away from the light of day. When he joins in the conversations Legolas is quieter than usual; he likes the man, but he sees no reason to reveal more of himself than that which Gandalf has already likely guessed.

He’s feeling particularly annoyed with himself on one particular Saturday, for being so hesitant over asking things that aren’t so strange between friends of their years, and it makes him irritable. He spars with Haldir for a while, until his friend steps back and gestures for Faramir to take his place. 

“You need someone less controlled today, I feel,” Haldir tells him, and replaces Faramir as Eowyn’s partner.

Faramir grins at him. “Pattern or free?” 

After a moment’s thought, Legolas answers, “free.” They move away from the main group, to the other side of the practice mats, and engage. Legolas spares a thought to remind himself to make sure to thank Haldir later; this is what he needs, the focus and constantly changing balance of free fencing. Faramir is less controlled than Haldir, more unpredictable, and it does wonders to keep Legolas’ mind off his annoyance.

After the lesson is a different matter, though, and he’s thankful that everyone seems to leave sooner than normal. He’s putting away the last of the fencing swords when he hears the door open. Frowning, he moves until he can see round the shelves and get a look at who’s just come in.

“The dojo’s closed,” he tells the newcomer, a short, stocky man with long red hair that redefines the phrase ‘windswept and interesting.’ It’s entirely possible that he says it more sharply than is really deserved, but his irritation isn’t going away in the face of a random walk-in.

“Gimli, a pleasure to meet you too,” he says, in a tone that makes it perfectly clear that it isn’t. “And you’d be the owner, then?” The way he says it matches his tone, making it perfectly clear that he knows Legolas isn’t the owner, and that he thinks Legolas should shut up and direct him to whoever is the owner.

“No,” Legolas replies through gritted teeth. “I’ve just been coming here long enough to know the opening and closing times.”

“Would you also be knowing one end of a sword from the other,” asks Gimli. He gives Legolas a dismissive glance over, as if he finds it doubtful that he can even lift a sword, let alone use one.

“If you’re here for the fencing classes,” Legolas says, unable to help himself bristling to the implied insult, “shouldn’t you be taller than the swords before you try to use one?”

“Shouldn’t you be a natural blonde before you start bitching like one?” Legolas is momentarily struck speechless by the comment, undecided whether it’s because it’s such a strange thing to say to someone you’ve only just started insulting, or if it’s because it’s such a teenager-ish thing to say. He’s got thirteen-year-old cousins who wouldn’t say that, and he’s heard them say things so scathing they could strip paint.

“That was uncourteous,” Aragorn remarks, entering with his usual good timing before Legolas’ irritation gets the better of him. “Please refrain from insulting my friends while in my dojo.”

Gimli snorts. “He gives as good as he gets.”

“I know,” Aragorn says, a slight smile marring his neutral expression. “He’s better with a sword, though.”

“Really? I shall have to test that.”


End file.
